


Ballast

by ember_firedrake



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Blow Jobs, Control Issues, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6035833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ballast - material used to provide stability to a vessel</p><p>For an anon on Tumblr who requested "Flint loves when Silver takes control."</p><p>takes place after 3x04</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ballast

John Silver watched the door to the captain’s cabin, which Flint had disappeared behind a moment ago. He’d come out onto the deck to inform the crew they would be reaching Nassau sometime tomorrow afternoon, then gone back to his solitude. Many of the crew had attributed the captain’s behavior to his newfound sense of purpose in the days since they’d departed the Maroon island, but Silver suspected there was more on the captain’s mind.

Not hours after they’d been on the water again, once they had gotten their navigational bearings, Silver had asked Flint to elaborate more on his admission about his role in the universal pardons. The fact that Flint had opened up in the first place about his past was remarkable, but Silver wanted a better idea of what they might face when they reached Nassau. What he had not expected was what Flint told him about Thomas Hamilton, nor what had followed after that disclosure. Their fevered meeting of hands, mouths, and bodies a culmination of what they’d been building toward for weeks. Months, even. Silver couldn’t say he had anticipated it, though he had suspected for some time the attraction he felt might be mutual.

In the days since then, they’d had several such encounters. Enough that Silver had gotten a better read of what Flint liked, even anticipating his needs. When the captain had come out on the deck a moment ago there’d been a barely-concealed agitation in his bearing. Silver had an idea of what might set Flint to rights.

He wasted no time in making his way to the cabin door and opening it, not so much striding but treading forward with as much confidence as his leg would allow. Flint looked up, a tense set to his shoulders, as Silver shut the door behind him.

“Can’t you knock?” Flint asked, no small amount of irritation in his tone. His hands were clenched on the surface of his desk, which had already been cleared of navigational instruments.

“I could, but that would be a waste of time.”

Flint bristled, turning from the desk. “You think because we’ve fucked a few times that gives you leave to—”

“I know you’re worried,” Silver cut him off. “About what happens, once we reach Nassau. You’re asking yourself if we delayed too long in refitting, if we should have set out sooner. If your strategies will be a match against whatever the Navy has planned. If there will be enough who haven’t given in to the pardons to put those strategies into play.”

Silver paused, gauging the effect his words had had. Taking Flint’s resigned silence as an affirmation, he continued. “I think you wish you could put it from your mind for a while. I think you want to forget about what may or may not happen tomorrow.”

As he spoke, Silver stepped closer. Flint watched him, the wariness on his face flickering to reveal a glimpse of vulnerability that of all the crew, only Silver had seen.

When Flint spoke, there was no mistaking the raw edge to his voice. “And you believe you have a solution to that end?”

Silver had moved close enough that there was a hand’s-breadth between them. He reached up, cupping Flint’s face, his thumb going to the hinge of Flint’s jaw in a grip that was firm without being forceful. Silver waited, just a moment, enough to see Flint’s eyes darken in what was decidedly not animosity. Silver allowed himself a small smirk. “I _know_ I have a solution to that end.”

He pressed forward, claiming Flint’s mouth with his own. Flint did not relinquish control easily, allowing Silver only a moment before he drew back, mouth twisted in a feral smile.

“You think you can make me submit that easily?” Flint asked. There was a glint in his eyes that might have been dangerous, but it was only surface deep. Silver could feel from the thrum of Flint’s body against his that he was not adverse to the idea. He just required more...coaxing.

“ _Make_ you submit? No. But I believe you _want_ to—part of you wishes to grant me authority in this. Will you allow me?”

Flint’s eyes were dilated wide, a ring of green surrounding black, as he gave a wordless nod. Silver surged against him, pressing him backward until Flint leaned on the desk. Flint exhaled against Silver’s mouth, tension leaving his body as he yielded. Silver could not help but feel awed—that Flint was allowing this, that Flint was hard against his thigh, that Flint wanted him, wanted _this_. 

Silver bit down on Flint’s lip, only hard enough to elicit an indrawn breath before he drew back. His thumb on Flint’s jaw stroked over prickly stubble and the softer hairs of the beard along his chin, then swept across Flint’s swollen lower lip. 

“Take off your shirt,” Silver said, his voice low. “Then keep your hands at your sides, on the desk.”

Flint’s face flashed with intent as he carried out the order. Silver took a moment to enjoy the expanse of Flint’s chest when it was finally bared before him. Their other encounters had been rushed by necessity, ship duties taking precedence. There was nothing now, though, wouldn't be until they reached Nassau. 

At Silver’s behest, Flint’s hands rested on the desk, though they gripped the edge when Silver reached down to unlace the front of Flint’s trousers. He took Flint’s cock in a loose, teasing hold, his other hand moving back up Flint’s chest.

Ginger hair and freckles dusted Flint’s torso. There were scars, too, which Silver mapped with his fingertips. Here was a thin scar that crossed his chest, a memory of his fight with Singleton. Here, on his shoulder, the gunshot from Dufresne. Something like fury settled icy cold in Silver’s gut as he traced that puckered scar, knowing it shared a twin on Flint’s back. He hadn't known, that day, how much Flint would come to mean to him, but he could still remember the fear that had overcome him when he'd finally dragged Flint to the beach and seen the blood seeping into his clothes. 

“ _Silver_ ,” Flint breathed, his arms twitching in restlessness. 

“Patience,” Silver said, though he took pity, his loose grip going firm as he tugged at Flint’s cock. 

Flint’s body was going tense and slack in turns, his hands clenching at the edge of the desk. Breath escaped him in hitching gasps as he fought the instinct to thrust into Silver’s grip. 

“You are infuriating,” Flint grated out.

Silver smiled. “You love it, or your hands wouldn’t still be on that desk.” 

He watched Flint’s face for the shift of emotions, irritation giving way to acquiescence. That little not-quite smile of Flint’s, a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth that betrayed his admiration. Silver leaned up to kiss that corner of Flint’s mouth, finally moving his hand over Flint’s cock in a proper rhythm. 

Flint stopped fighting it, his body going pliant except where it was necessary to remain standing. He sagged against the desk, his head tilting back. Silver watched the transformation with fascination. How much worry and tension had Flint carried for months? How much had he wanted to set it aside, unable to do so where anyone could see? 

“ _Yes_ ,” Silver breathed, moving his hand more quickly. “Come on.”

He swept his thumb to collect the fluid at the head of Flint’s cock, using it to slick the passage of his grip. Flint groaned, his entire body shuddering with his orgasm. Silver chased it, continuing to move his hand until Flint was spent, release coating his abdomen. Even then, Silver held him, nuzzling at the juncture of Flint’s neck and jaw. His own need was pressing, but that could wait. 

Flint was languid, body arched the way a cat might in the sun. The walls he constantly held were gone, giving way to a vulnerability that for once wasn’t rooted in hopelessness. It was a good look on him, and Silver found he wanted to see it more often. 

“Can I...” Flint began, his voice halting.

“Wha—oh, yes,” Silver said, realizing Flint still hadn’t moved his hands per Silver’s directive. 

There was a looseness to Flint’s movements as he reached for Silver, turning them so their places were reversed, before he sank to his knees. Something seemed to unfurl in Silver’s chest as he looked down at Flint’s face, at the heat and want in those eyes.

“Go on,” Silver prompted, reaching down to card his fingertips through the quarter-inch of silky fuzz on Flint’s scalp. “Take me in your mouth.” 

It took barely a moment for Flint to remove the last obstacle, pulling apart the opening on Silver’s trousers before swallowing the length of him down. Silver bit back a shout, grateful for the solid weight of the desk behind him keeping him upright. His nails pressed into Flint’s scalp, causing a groan that sent a reverberation through Silver’s body. 

Silver knew he wouldn’t last long if he looked down, but he needed it. He needed to see the stretch of Flint’s lips around him, the heavy-lidded expression. Flint’s own hands were at Silver’s hips, his grip firm. Silver relaxed his own hold on Flint’s head, watching closely the expression on his face. Slowly, he gave an experimental roll of his hips.

Flint’s eyes fluttered shut as he let out a muffled moan. His tongue rolled against Silver’s cock. Encouraged, Silver thrust forward again. There was no mistaking Flint’s enthusiasm as his face took on a blissful expression. It was as close to a verbal invitation as he was likely to get. Maybe this, too, was something Flint needed.

Silver began thrusting his hips, careful to keep from going too deep. He kept one hand on Flint’s head, though not too firmly that Flint couldn’t pull back if he wanted. He was rapidly approaching the culmination of his own release, the slick heat of Flint’s mouth and pressure of his tongue aiding to that end. 

“ _Fuck_ , I’m—” Silver tried to warn, but Flint didn’t pull back. His grip on Silver’s hips tightened as Silver spilled down his throat. 

Silver came back to himself slowly, the pressure of Flint’s fingers like an anchor on his awareness. He waited a moment more until he was sure of his own steadiness, then grappled at Flint’s shoulders, tugging him upright so he could kiss Flint thoroughly, chasing the taste of himself in Flint’s mouth. 

Tomorrow was an uncertainty, one Silver knew they could not put off for long. For now, however, there was this, the calm in Flint’s features indicating that for the moment that uncertainty did not trouble him.


End file.
